


What Is and What Should Never Been

by Jeditwins



Category: La Passe-Miroir | The Mirror Visitor - Christelle Dabos
Genre: Costume, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Masquerade, Other, Party, ophelia/thorn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeditwins/pseuds/Jeditwins
Summary: A collection of one-shots. Not really canon, just wanted to put these characters in stories. The first two chapters really aren't that good, but I like to think they get a little better.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	1. The Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> Being an English speaker I haven't yet read books 3 or 4, but I desperately wanted to write something with these characters, so I figured why not explore the first party Ophelia attends after being revealed as Thorn's fiancee.
> 
> Ophelia's approval had come overnight, and she was instantly inundated with invitations to The Pole's most prestigious events. Under Berenilde's advice, (or was it gentle instruction?) Ophelia honors them.  
> Also known as Ophelia's first time using sandglasses.

In a way, Ophelia had always admired Berenilde's natural grace, charm, and of course, her beauty, and if she was going to get through this, she had to mirror that as much as she could. Her first time at a party had been hard enough, without the added pressure of being known as Thorn's fiancee, and the constant need to represent him, but now it was totally different; under the eyes of the court, she had to be her very best. 

Berenilde had her dressed in a gown of rich blue, that she thought "Complimented her personality well", but Ophelia translated it as "distracting enough from the fact that she was boring and unassuming", if she looked important enough, perhaps those that _really_ mattered would leave her be. Of course, her scarf insisted on being a part of the look, and by the time Berenilde was lecturing her on manners, and the need for proper diction, it had nestled sleepily around her neck.

"Now we can't use the sandglasses together, and I won't have you following me around", she instructed taking a breath to light her pipe, "But I will be around if you need anything." As dismissive as her words wore, Ophelie didn't have the time to be offended by them, her mind was already occupied with other things. It had been a few days now since she hung up on Thorn, and she was sure Berenilde would have a word with her about it. The thought of running into him by chance had crossed her mind, but she came to the conclusion that if he was going to attend any social gathering, a masquerade party was not going to be it. Berenilde answered her worries as if she had heard them herself.

"Listen, as this is important. The number one reason you are here is to support the diplomatic agreement between Lord Farouk and the Animists, and I will not have you making a fool of us, or Thorn, who, if I may remind you, is the one your marriage is arranged to."

Ophelia wondered if Thorn had spoken to his Aunt about her since her storytelling, or if Berenilde had mentioned anything to him about her now being favoured by the public, and this was now her way of letting her know, nevertheless, Berenilde had conveyed a _very_ sincere message, and it did nothing to help her nerves. As quickly as Berenilde had spoken, she was gone, and Ophelia mustered up the courage to make her own journey over. She looked herself over again in the dresser mirror and considered plunging into it headfirst, to wherever it may take her, but Berenilde was right, she shouldn't let her own anxieties ruin her new family's image, so she affixed her mask to her face, tried her best to neaten her scarf, channelled her best Agatha impression, before pulling the pin on her own sandglass.

**....**

Agatha would be impressed indeed. The room she appeared in was only a coatroom, but it was just as dressed up; ornate mirrors lined the walls, with gold filigree accenting the wallpaper, furniture, and carpet. Crystal chandeliers in all shapes and sizes hung from the ceiling, with gold baubles to match, Ophelia couldn't even process how much work would have gone into this.

It was very clear just how out of place Ophelia was, even with her ornate mask and flashy clothes she was a deer in headlights, and Berenilde quickly swept over, bending to meet her. "Oh do try and relax," she placed a hand on her back, guiding her into the main room, "Our Lord Farouk is here, and I think it would be best to avoid him this evening, that mask is only doing so much for you." When they had reached the main dance floor Berenlide straightened herself and dropped her hand when she noticed Farouk staring. "Oh look" she blushed, "I must be off, but if you really can't help yourself, try not to talk too much."

Ophelia's stress led her to the nearest server, and she soon found herself with a glass of golden champagne, and with each sip, her nerves settled. It wasn't long before Archibald spotted her in the crowd, and beckoned her over. With lack of something better to do, Ophelia reluctantly obliged. She was wary of being alone with him, but at this moment he was in the company of two other women. "If it isn't Thorn's fiancee" he winked to the woman closest to him, "How wonderful of you to be here, your very first party at the Pole," he was now sheepishly smiling at her, and she hoped the other two ladies hadn't noticed, "I do hope that you're not too out of place". The woman who was furthest from him was wearing a green gown, her masked loosely resembled a deer, and was now trying to stifle a laugh, Archibald continued, "I'd try not to drink too much if I were you, but I'm not, so I will leave you to it, enjoy," he flashed a smile and twirled into another crowd.

The woman in green was the first to speak, "I hope you don't think that you belong here, we all see right through you," She sneered. "I am not blind to what you think of me, I've heard what you all say about the Treasurer's fiancee," Ophelia found herself replying, perhaps she had drunk too much. The woman in green huffed but was interrupted by the second lady, "Take no mind to her, she's spoiled her night by enquiring about a young gentleman who has involved himself with someone else, and we all know that the Ambassador lost interest in her years ago," she reassured cruelly. At this, the second woman was fuming, "And who are you to talk about me like that? Do you know who I am?" "I know who you used to be," she laughed back, closing the distance between herself and Ophelia, "Come on," she turned to Ophelia, "Let's get something to drink."

The woman introduced herself as Florence and had quickly established herself as a mirage, "Here, there are different levels," she instructed, "For now you are at the top but don't think that will last, Farouk will very quickly forget someone like you, and we don't exactly respect the Treasurer, so as far as we're all concerned, you're an easy target,". Ophelia was shocked, Florence had defended her earlier, and now she was singling her out. "I think I'm perfectly fine looking after myself, thank you," she retaliated. "Oh don't get me wrong, that little stunt earlier was brave, but if you think marrying a Bastard from a Clan who is dying out is going to make you a noble, you have another thing coming, and don't think that just because Berenilde is with a child with Lord Forouk that it changes anything, she is in a league entirely on her own, in fact, I wouldn't even call her a Dragon, she's embarrassing enough."

As if summoned Berenilde had appeared behind them, "Did I hear my name correctly?" She cooed, as dazzling as always, "or perhaps you meant someone else?". Florence stuttered, "Of course Berenilde, I wouldn't mean anything bad." She was waved off while Berenilde simply laughed, "Well, I'm sure Ophelia here can catch me up, yes? Please excuse us." Ophelia was now being led into an antechamber while Berenilde tried her best to keep her cool, however, when they were out of sight she seized her wrists, "What did I tell you, you're here to maintain a good relationship, not mingle with the wrong crowd." "Excuse me, but if anything, she was being nice," Ophelia explained, taking her arm back. Berenilde gathered herself, regaining composure, "Perhaps, but be careful where you place your trust, word carries quickly around here, and I will not have you make a mockery of yourself," she paused, "anyhow, Florence doesn't exactly hold herself in high regards, and not a lot of people respect her in that sense but do try to be more careful."

Again Berenilde was taken away with the crowd and was no doubt enjoying herself in the company of Lord Farouk, while Ophelia struggled to fit in. She did not dance, as people either found it too inappropriate to ask, or they did not want to associate themselves with an outsider. Archibald did come by three times asking for her hand, but each time she replied with a firm head shake, and he drifted off. She found herself wishing Thorn were there, at least then she would have a reasonable excuse, and she swore at him for abandoning her like this. Then again, even if Thorn was there she imagined he wouldn't be much help to the situation except telling her what she can and can't do, and speaking on her behalf. And just like that, the thought faded, and she was glad to be there alone.

Later, when Ophelia had one too many drinks, she found herself asking Berenilde about Thorn. "Oh, but he is here," she laughed, "well, he was, in fact, he didn't seem to hesitate at all when he was invited to overlook the setup, in fact, he almost insisted, something about keeping stock, or tracking money, something like that, but I can tell when he's lying," she lowered her voice and face to match Ophelia's, "I think he was maybe just a bit too eager for it to be about his duty as treasurer, so maybe don't forget why you're really here." She cooed. Ophelia swallowed the lump in her throat, if Thorn was here, or worse, was still here, she really didn't want to stay around to find out. She was still upset from his call, and the last thing she wanted was to start a scene, especially since he probably wouldn't have been able to help himself and hold his tongue about her performance the other day.

Ophelia quickly excused herself from the rest of the crowd, and despite it still being early, she dipped her hand into the mirror she spotted in the cloakroom, and bid farewell to the party behind her, eager to find herself back in her room. She had had enough of parties for one day.


	2. What Happened That Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ophelia bets it all at a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm going to be honest. I don't really know where this chapter fits into canon. Truth be told it doesn't at all. I think it's somewhere in the second book, possibly if the second book ended differently? Maybe?  
> Anyway, I had a dream one night involving these characters, I woke up, jotted the points down, and fell back asleep, so admittedly its not great, but I hope you enjoy.

Ophelia spent the evening looking herself up and down in the cheval mirror. She had never considered herself to be pretty and often spent time wondering what would be the first thing someone would change if they switched bodies. Thankfully, that wasn't a family power people could possess, she did truly like her curls, and how they reflected her demeanor. Her Aunt Rosaline was stressing for the two of them, pulling out dresses from every wardrobe for her to try on. Ophelia wasn't fussy, but she _was_ fussed, better to get this over and done with. "Blues better" Rosaline stressed, making Ophelia hold two dresses up. She didn't want to spoil her Aunt's attitude any further, but she was growing tired of this, and tempted to slip back into her old dress and go. "Are we nearly done here?" she sighed, we still have hair to do, she thought.   
"Almost..no, blue is definitely your color."  
"I actually think I prefer you in green" Berenilde appeared at the door with her usual charm. Rosaline sighed, "Green it is then."

Her hair was spread over an hour, her aunt took particular care in making it look presentable. "Drat these curls," she exclaimed as another one came loose, I'm running out of pins here." That was especially true, she currently had 40 in her hair, and it wasn't like they were doing any good. Rosaline had to settle for a few pieces here and there, but overall the look was effective and had now left her to fix her own face.

"You know," Berenilde started as she glided into the room, "I'm really not sure what to think about tonight". Ophelia didn't want to share her own concerns at the risk of the night backfiring on her. She had royally messed up at the first party, and now she was determined to do it right. Berenilde didn't wait for a response, "I guess it's not really up to me, is it?" she laughed, but there was no humor in her voice, "it's bound to happen sooner or later." She had been kind enough to let Ophelia borrow a statement piece of jewelry that was hardly worn. "Oh, she exclaimed after seeing the final touches, "I wish I had daughters." Ophelia wasn't sure how to reply to this, things were good when Berenilde was treating her like a doll, but she didn't know how long this will last. Aunt Rosaline had reappeared by the door, "Let's hurry dear, we don't want to be late."

Berenilde took Ophelia's hands, "Thorn won't say this to you, but I will. I want you to be safe, he will be there, but I need you to be proactive? Okay?"

They were silent in the carriage ride over by choice, but the venue left them speechless. All four sides of the exterior of the hall were lined with marble podiums that stretched all the way to the ceiling, and the view from those was spectacular. Ophelia breathed in the lashings of fresh, crisp air, and had to be persuaded by her aunt to go inside. The inside was just as glamorous, the main room was lined with windows overlooking the sea, and a four-sided bar sat in the middle of the room like an island. Three rooms sprouted off this; a room for playing cards, a smokers lounge, which hardly anyone ever used anyway, and a ballroom.

"Can I get you, two lovely ladies, a drink?" Archibald flirted the moment they stepped into the room. Ophelia fully expected Rosaline to say no outright, but she instead blushed and ordered two glasses of champagne. "That's what I like to hear," The Ambassador winked before heading off, and promptly returning with two crystal glasses. "Now" Archibald leaned in as he lead Ophelia away, "How do you feel about gambling?". "I can't say I feel anything," she carefully replied, he tipped his hat to her, "well then, there really is no better place to start than here", he commented as Ophelia allowed herself to get swept away again.

Archibald concluded that they would make a great team, provided that she cheats, "Oh come on, it's easy, the cards are played face down on a table, you need to select the cards that will give you a set, I'll bet big, and you just read the cards based on who placed them". Ophelia wasn't sure about this, but four drinks down and she wasn't as opposed as she thought. They had played four rounds, with four different couples, and each time they had one. "Now, this is hustling, I suggest you get used to it here." He told her. It wasn't until the fifth couple that luck started to run out. They were up against a short man with a bowler hat, and a plump man with a mustache, "I have an idea," the shorter of the two chimed in, "let's switch teams", the plump man gleamed "yes, lets, and to make it harder, blind picking; no touching". Archibald shot his old teammate a look.

It turns out Ophelia wasn't as good with cards as she first imagined she'd be, and the alcohol certainly wasn't helping with that. With each new hand came a new drink which Ophelia generously accepted in an attempt to fit in. Determined to come out clean, she kept betting and betting, until she didn't have anything left to bet. "My castle!" she shouted, excited by the thrill. "My dear Ophelia, you don't have a castle" Archibald laughed. "No, not yet, but, I will win one for you." "And who would I be to say no to that?"

It wasn't until Ophelia knew that she was in far too deep that she thought to look for help. Admittedly, she should have walked away sooner, but foresight was never exactly her strong point. Hindsight, however, was a wonderful thing. She used the excuse of getting another drink as a means to get away from the situation.   
"Oh come now Ophelia, do you think I don't see what you're trying to do?" Archibald chirped.   
"I was hoping you'd overlook it for once" Ophelia replied sincerely, "besides, I didn't think I'd owe you anything"  
"An amateur decision really"

Ophelia got up from her spot and started collecting her things, "I just need another drink". She hoped that she was convincing enough to give her the chance to get away, but Archibald caught on and offered for a valet to get one for her. After she declined he then offered to at least accompany her. Ophelia had the feeling that he would continue to be persistent, so she reluctantly obliged, and the two put their game on pause to head to the bar, much to the disapproval of the other players. The alcohol that had taken its time reaching her head had started to take effect, coupled with her tiredness, and hunger, which was a recipe for disaster, and she was starting to feel lightheaded from the thought that she had done something irredeemably stupid. Archibald had taken her hand in his, seemingly unaware of the situation that could put them in. She was no stranger to the rumors concerning herself as Thorn's fiancee, and what she might get up to with Archibald, and she certainly wasn't going to prove a point right now, but she also didn't want to cause a scene, so she allowed him to lead her back to the first room, with that splendid four-sided bar.

Ophelia scanned the room filled with people she had never seen in her life and was struck with the sudden feeling that she could be perceived. She began frantically searching for the source without making it look obvious before finally laying her eyes on it. Thorn. He was here, looking as bored as ever surrounded by men who were no doubt quizzing him about his work, he however seemed engaged in conversation as he replied willingly, but he did not take his eyes off of her. She took the chance of checking out who he was talking to; a shorter man sat on a stool smoking a cigarette was on his left, and would occasionally glance out the window behind them that overlooked the city. On Thorn's right was another man, plump, with a dark mustache, who seemed to be leading the conversation. The mustached man would look off into the crowd, then turn back and laugh about something, his belly heaving. Ophelia couldn't shake the feeling that he was laughing _at her_ , but she passed it off to heightened paranoia in an uncomfortable situation.

"Oh heaven's child, don't give me that look" he laughed as he pushed their way through the crowd, offending many nobles. The truth was Ophelia didn't feel like people took much notice to her, but for some reason holding on to Archibald felt like she was placing herself in the headlights of an oncoming truck; a truck that would surely take her out in a hushed whisper that would go back to Thorn in one way or another. She dropped his hand and put her own out for balance. She was hoping that her eyes were only figuratively spinning, and not literally; _that_ would give her away. Archibald bent down to match her height and leaned in.

"Are we going to kiss?" Ophelia couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of what it may look like.   
Archibald scoffed, "No dear, my you are bold! I can see what Thorn sees in you".   
"No, no" Ophelia shook her head, but her seriousness didn't last long and she started giggling again.   
Archibald stiffened his posture and returned to his normal height, "What I was going to say is that you are fooling no one, but by now you should know that I don't care and that I _will_ get my prize. He tipped his hat and disappeared in the mass of people surrounding the bar. Ophelia realized this as her only opportunity to lose him and slipped away.

Her head was now pounding as she drunkenly made her way back to the center of the room; if she couldn't find Thorn _surely_ he would find her. The room, however, had changed and Ophelia took a second to orientate herself. Where people had crowded in the middle, they were all now around the outsides in their groups, leaving her there alone. Embarrassment hit her when she realized how stupid she might look and considered for a second going back to Archibald, but her anger at being left alone got the better of her and she marched into one of the crowds. She met every disgusted look with an "I'm sorry, please forgive me, excuse me," until at last, she found the group she was in search of.

Thorn now stood with his back against the window, and the two men in front of him with their backs to the room. He was a full head above them so surely he could see her. Ophelia stared at him hard, pleading for a reaction. Thorn remained indignant and continued his conversation. Maybe it was pushing her luck, but Ophelia noticed him pointing to an alcove in the will via his reflection in the window. She might be pushing her luck here, but she had to go with her gut. Thorn seemed to excuse himself from the discussion and followed her to the edge of the room. So she had been right about him, he might be a stickler for formality, but he was terribly sincere with his words; sure, he had a funny way of showing it, but he would do everything he could to make sure she was alright.

Ophelia had slumped against the wall, trying hard to focus on the room. "Where is Madam Rosaline?" Thorn muttered disapprovingly when he reached her. Ophelia stifled a smile, "I'm not sure," she ended up giggling, and then in a more serious tone she added, "We got separated." Ophelia stiffened in her place, lost in reflection. Now that she was saying it out loud, she didn't know when the last time she saw her Aunt was. Thorn glanced around the room and if he wasn't impressed he didn't show it. The two gentlemen he was with earlier were now looking at them and talking amongst themselves. Ophelia felt the need to go over there and say something, but she couldn't exactly know what they were talking about.

By the time it took Ophelia to find Thorn, Archibald had now caught up with her, his top hat was barely on his head at this point, and he flashed a toothy smile, "There you are, I was looking everywhere for you," Ophelia laughed as he handed her a glass with some sort of golden liquid in it, "here I was thinking you were trying to run away from me,".

Ophelia looked down into the glass, how inviting, she thought, but before she could do anything Thorn had intervened and taken it out of her hand, "Oh boo," she frowned. She wasn't even going to try and get it back from him, all he had to do was put his arm up and it would be out of reach. Thorn said nothing, but the look on his face was abysmal. Ophelia wrongfully interpreted this as indifference and continued as if he wasn't there. "Sometimes I think maybe I should get away from you," she said almost in distaste. If the Ambassador picked up on her tone he didn't say anything, only winked as a reply, and Ophelia knew that she wasn't off the hook just yet.

"Perhaps I can offer another way to settle this..something more your speed," Archibald cooed, "Then again, perhaps your fiance would like to step in, get you out of this sticky situation." Ophelia looked puzzled, she was tired now and didn't quite understand what was going on. Thorn was equally stumped and looked at her as if _he_ wanted _her_ to explain. All she could manage in response was an almost snort, "as if." Ophelia zoned out as Archibald continued, he was teasing at this point, but her trance broke when Thorn finally interrupted.

"I think maybe you should leave us be," He said steadily. Archibald addressed his flailing top hat, taking it off and looking at it as if it was the fourth person in the conversation. "Oh no, I don't think so, she lost a bet, and now she owes me," Archibald continued. Ophelia almost sobered up from the sight of a grown man talking to his hat and she was instantly embarrassed.

Judging by the look Archibald had after he said this, she could tell that Thorn had an unsavory look on his face, and she swiveled around to see it; looking up like she was a five year old who had just gotten in trouble. His scar was not twisted like she imagined it to be, but instead, a look of weariness replaced the disgraced look she expected. "Let's go" he muttered again. It wasn't much of a suggestion, but more an order, as he placed his hand on her shoulder and pushed her to the entrance. Ophelia did the smartest thing she could think of and allowed her feet to be shuffled along, getting odd looks from all the other party guests.

He led her to the steps outside that entered the hall. Seemingly paying no attention to her he looked out over the city and lit his pipe. Ophelia followed him over and sat on the base of a stone pillar supporting the building. Silence from him was normal, but this was something else. "I let you be. I let you do as you please, speak to whomever you like, I don't question you unless it concerns me". She waited for him to comment on her behavior, about how she was an embarrassment to him, but all he sounded was hurt. "So tell me why that is who you involve yourself with?". Ophelia was dumbfounded, as sly as Archibald was he never wished her any ill intent, and he certainly had never had given her a reason to feel unsafe around him. "You take me here, you ask me to mingle, your Aunt wants me to socialize, I have _never_ wished any sort of harm onto you, and yet you always expect something from me you don't even give yourself," she shot back. The mix of alcohol and unspoken words had built up inside, but she still surprised herself. Thorn, however, did not seem as surprised, and he continued to look over the skyline. 

"I'm not very good at this," he admitted after what felt like an eternity. Ophelia must have been tired because she swore that she felt some sort of remorse, but if he expected her to respond to this she wasn't going to. She looked down in an attempt to avoid him and caught her reflection in the polished floor; her hair was uncoiling in every direction, and her cheeks were flushed. In an effort to look a little better she started unpinning her hair, it was a lost cause anyway. She looked out of the corner of her glasses and noticed Thorn was watching her with great interest. "I must also admit this is all a bit new to me," he said turning away as if the floor was the most interesting thing. Ophelia was confused with what he meant by this, but before she could question anything he started to walk back inside, "I can trust you to find your way home? That really shouldn't be an issue for you." But Ophelia had already made up her mind that she wasn't going to do anything else that her future husband wanted her to do, so she remained long after he had left her.

Sitting on that pillar, Ophelia felt a range of emotions. Firstly, rage washed over her; how could she be so stupid to agree to be here, to feel those things. After that came to a sadness she couldn't quite explain. Then a sneeze which she caught just in time. Lastly, it was guilt, she was harsh, and truth be told he had looked after her in a way that only he could, and he had always given her the benefit of the doubt and allowed her to do things because he knew it would make her happy. Ophelia realized that she owed it to him to do something right for once. She was about to leave when she suddenly remembered her Aunt Rosaline and felt guilty for leaving her alone, and considered heading back in to look for her, but she came to the conclusion that if she had already left her time would be wasted, and if she hadn't, Ophelia might miss her, so she decided to wait for her to emerge. There were ten separate occasions where she almost gave up, but she stayed put. Family would always come first, and this wasn't the exact situation she was sure Aunt Rosaline was hoping for. At some time in the night, Ophelia ended up falling asleep by that pillar, and when she awoke someone familiar was looking down on her, but it wasn't her Aunt. 

"Let's go," he whispered.  
"No, first I need to apologize, that was out of line."  
"I'm going to interrupt you here. I've spent the entire time of knowing you trying to get you to gain my trust, but you have never given me a reason to not trust you." He said, fiddling with his watch. Ophelia waited for him to continue, but this was as good as his 'apology' was going to get.  
"Let's consider it even," she suggested, and Thorn nodded, instantly relaxing. The two stood there in awkward silence, and she was beginning to feel the absence of her Aunt. At least she was always saying something, inappropriate or not, and it made her realize how she hadn't really had a conversation with Thorn that lacked motive. Her cheeks flushed at this so she pulled down her already loose hair to cover her face. Thorn continued snapping his watch open and close, contemplating the scenery, and Ophelia, not knowing what to say, stared at her shoes. At last, she spoke up, "It's chilly out here," she concluded. Thorn gave her a funny look until he realized she was only in her party dress.   
"We should head back then, it'll only get colder."  
"But I still haven't found my Aunt."  
"Five minutes then." So they sat there silently in each other's company until Thorn announced that the five minutes were up, but Ophelia didn't seem to notice, so they waited for another five minutes. By the time 'five' more minutes had passed Ophelia was wearing Thorn's coat as a blanket. He then took authority and helped Ophelia to her feet.   
"We really must be off now." So they walked to a carriage. Thorn must've noticed how absent she was. "Archibald will forget, and if he doesn't, as sly as he is, he won't hold you to it", Thorn had returned to his authoritative tone, now looking down at her. Ophelia could never tell if he was upset by her or not, but at the end of his sentence, she swore that she spotted a small smile.

The trip seemed longer going back than it did on the way there. The road was bumpy, and any chance she had of dozing off was only awoken by going over a rock of some sort. The most uncomfortable part of the trip was the coldness. Even from inside the carriage the walls did little to keep it out. While she spent it dizzy, sleepy, and cold, Thorn watched her with intrigue. Ophelia was ashamed of herself, and Thorn not saying anything made the situation worse. You could cut the air with a knife.   
**  
**

"I have a question." Ophelia sat up. Thorn continued to look at her. "It's about your dice."  
"I don't really want to talk about that." Surely it was the most pointless thing to avoid talking about, Ophelia wondered just how much he could really say about them.  
"Fine, it's about cards."  
"I'm listening."  
"Do you play?"  
"No"  
"But you smoke"  
"Everyone does"  
"I don't," Ophelia whispered as if he didn't know that already.

Silence

"What on earth does that got to do with anything?" Thorn puzzled.  
"So you don't play? That's fine"

Silence again

"Can you play?"  
"Yes"  
"Finally, we're getting somewhere. How?"  
"How exactly am I supposed to answer that? Why can't you? It's not hard"  
"I have a terrible memory" Ophelia sighed, and then instantly remembered Thorn's mother's gift.  
"See, now would you stop asking me questions?"

Ophelia huffed and turned to look out the window.

"Look, it's just remembering numbers, it's not that hard." Thorn offered.  
"For someone like you"  
"For someone like me," he echoed quietly to himself. They sat in a stagnant silence before Thorn added, "besides, you do so much more than I can do." Ophelia sat up, "And what's that?"   
Taking a sudden interest in the view outside, he replied "People, you get people."   
"Oh" "I don't though, I mean, I don't talk much, and I haven't the slightest idea what to do in court, how to treat nobles, and at the very basic not embarrass myself"

Before they could say anything else, the carriage pulled to a stop. While Ophelia had Thorn in this headspace she confessed her concerns, "I'm worried about my Aunt Rosaline."  
Thorn looked at his future wife, "The last time I saw her she was repairing every paper napkin she came across, even Archibald was concerned and had my Aunt come out to get her." "Oh," was all Ophelia could manage, he looks like he's being honest, she told herself, "Then why did you wait for her?"  
"You wanted to," he replied, returning to looking out the window before quietly adding, "besides, I wanted to spend time with you."


	3. What Is and What Should Never Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interpretation of what happened after lunch. Book 2.

She has her own secrets. That much, I can tell. I hate to admit it, but I really don't know much about her. Sometimes I feel like I'm doing the right thing, then I look down at her face and realize I'm not.

She is single-handedly the most caring person I have met and it pains me, but she would've been a great mother. Sometimes I wish I could tell her everything, to burden my thoughts. We had come this far together, what harm could they _really_ do? I just don't want to hurt her.

I had asked her to allow me to give her a nice life because it was the right thing to do because I had taken her from her family for my own gain, but now, I _wanted_ to give her a nice life, because the truth is that I cared about her. I wanted her to be happy. I dreamt of her in another life inviting friends over for tea, and they'd sit in the parlor to talk. I'm not much of a social person but I think I would have enjoyed that.

However the people in court aren't like that, not without some sort of gain. If I really wanted to see her happy, I'd have to take her somewhere else, but I'm not sure I could give up being treasurer. Maybe. It was selfish, but I wanted to see her happy _with_ me. These thoughts surprised me, but not as much as what I did next.

* * *

A disaster of lunch had just finished, and Ophelia did not know what to say. Aside from sabotaging any sort of relationship he might have with her family, she was sure he spent the whole time thinking about his appointments, just waiting to run off again. She was startled back to reality.

"Not true," Thorn said in his low voice. Ophelia sneezed three times, blinked twice, and blew her nose once, before looking up at him.

"Pardon?"

"To answer your question, it might not have gone to plan, but it wasn't the worst meal I've been to." This wasn't reassuring, but it was the best she was going to get. Ophelia tried hard not to roll her eyes, but as things would have it, her mother was always nearby to do that for her. She had accompanied the Rapporteur outside to join her daughter.

"It would seem, _Mr. Thorn_ " she stressed each syllable, "That you have persuaded the rest of my family, but don't take it so lightly when you say that I am still unconvinced." The Rapporteur stood idly there. Ophelia understood that she was not going to attempt to say anything unless she figured that her own family was out of hand. Thorn had turned his full body to face her, in a rather awkward movement that involved turning his feet before the rest of his body.

He turned his nose to look down at her and spoke curtly, "I had not made the mistake of assuming a genuine response," he highlighted, "but I thank you regardless."

Her mother huffed, "While you seem sincere, I shall hold my tongue until it is proven." In an attempt to fool no one, she flashed a fake smile. Ophelia wasn't sure who to call back first. If she asked Thorn to compromise he might get upset that she had given her mother a reason to believe things were wrong, but if she pleaded with her mother, would it give the wrong impression to Thorn, and he'd think she would always bend to his will.

Before she could make a decision she was being pulled away to speak privately. Thorn had now taken interest in the two and made no attempts to hide that he was staring right at Ophelia intently.

"I do not trust this man, but I am not interested in making a spectacle of myself," she whispered, glancing behind her, "Can I trust you to do the same? I don't like how he conducts his business."

Ophelia wanted to laugh, if one thing was true, it was that he was an expert in keeping business away from pleasure, he had always conducted himself with authority, and had never tried to bribe _her_ with anything. Truth be told, she was feeling less and less like a business deal to him every day. 

"If you also allow me a word," The Rapporteur had placed herself in between Ophelia and her mother, her weather vane spinning, "I do not think it wise at all for you to return to Anima. If I can remind you, you are here for a diplomatic unity, _not_ a holiday."

Thorn had now given the Animists' conversation his full attention. Ophelia was sure that they were out of earshot, so she was puzzled as to what exactly he could hear.

The commotion had gathered the attention of Ophelia's siblings and Agatha had joined Thorn beaming. 

"I'm not sure what your Aunt had told you," she began, but Thorn had interjected, "She hasn't." 

Unaware of the attempt to get her to stop, Agatha continued, "It's just that I really do think I'd be much happier at Court, you see - "

Thorn had interrupted again, "I'm afraid I do not," he said bluntly. Before Agatha could realize that she should take offense Ophelia had swept in and picked up her hands, leading her off to the side. 

"Please sister," she whispered, "It's just that he is really quite busy, but I'm sure he'll answer some of your more desperate questions later." she looked back, but Thorn had lost interest in them and looked neither relieved, nor stressed as he looked out at the sea.

"How can we be sure he'll ever come back?"

"He will. I promise, why not think about what you really want to ask him?". But Ophelia wasn't sure, and she felt bad for promising that. She had hoped that her future Husband would consider her wants just as much as anyone else, but she couldn't answer that with much honesty.

She returned to Thorn's side once she was sure that she had satisfied her sister. If he took notice of her company he did not show it and remained indifferent. It was weird standing by the ocean together. She had spent moments within close proximity to him, but it was never like this. The sun was now right overhead and she had never seen him in daylight like this. She had the sudden impulse to ask him about their marriage, and what it would be like after the wedding. She hadn't exactly made a mental picture of the timeline of events but had instead convinced herself that Thorn would want to get right into learning about his new powers after the ceremony of the gift. Here under a new light, she hoped that wasn't the case.

"I'm sure you have to get back now," she settled on saying instead. Thorn didn't look at her but replied quickly without too much thought.

"My appointments have been canceled."

"I'm not sure I understand."

For a long time Thorn didn't respond, "If I have only one chance to be completely honest, I'm not sure I do either."

Ophelia stared at him hoping to elicit a response. 

"I admit I'm not very good at this," he sighed defeatedly, "I try not to place myself where I'm not concerned."

Ophelia had grown impatient and would rather him get over what he was trying to say, "please continue."

"I'm constantly surprised by you, you speak in situations where I would expect less, and yet, in this situation you do not," he noted, trying hard not to hide his disappointment.

Ophelia carefully considered her response, "I'd rather not pick sides."

"It's not that. I've always considered you to be bold."

A pang of guilt had hit her, out of all the people she was trying to not upset, Thorn was top of the list. All she wanted is for her family, and future family to get along. All she could think about was how different things might have gone had Berenilde or her Aunt Rosaline been there and she vocalized that point.

"I have to disagree," Ophelia said nothing, allowing him to continue, "But I'd rather my Aunt not be here right now."

* * *

I was used to people not liking me; I had more enemies than I could count, but I was determined to make things right with Ophelia. It might have been a mistake bribing my way into her family's eye, but I did not regret it. They wouldn't have liked me anyway, forming an opinion before even getting a proper chance to know me.

If I was being honest, this meal was up there with some of the worse I've had, but for some reason I hadn't considered yet, Ophelia somehow made it more bearable. I wasn't stupid enough to think that I had been totally convincing, but I was genuine in my emotions to be genuine enough to them.

Her mother made a comment about not trusting me. It was fine. Nothing new. She took Ophelia aside, no doubt to convince her to pack her things right away. I could only trust Ophelia at this point. Whatever she decided I would have to respect. I would have liked this moment to be a little more discreet, but her conversation had attracted the attention of the rest of her family. I wonder what that was like, to have so many people care.

No. Let's not go there. Her sister Agatha was approaching. I didn't have time for this, but I don't want to be rude. _Please_ , Ophelia, finish the conversation.

From what I can see, she had not raised many issues. Did that mean she had agreed to go home? She had always been incredibly vocal which I admired, but here among her family, she was different.

Ophelia had joined me again and I couldn't hide the fact that I felt like I disappointed her, but what is done, is done. I could only hope she wouldn't look up at me.

"I'm sure you have to get back now."

"My appointments have been canceled." They hadn't, but they would have to get over this. There was something I wanted to do. As much as I understood her, there was still so much I didn't know, and if I wanted this wedding to be successful I had to ask, so I was glad my Aunt was absent.

* * *

The wind had picked up considerably since that morning and had tousled Ophelia's curls. The two had earnt some alone time thanks to Ophelia's consistent pleading, and her godfather's approval on the condition that they remain within sight. Her mother was not as please, but had grown used to having to make concessions. She had to admit that there were times where perhaps she had been too harsh. He had always accepted every condition without argument, even as he may have found it ridiculous and not customary to his Ark.

Thorn had suddenly gained interest in her life outside of the Pole, and cautiously asked her questions about her family, her work at the museum, and finally, on Anima itself, and she tried her best to answer them. It must've been a strange sight to anyone who knew them, but fortunately, Neither Aunt Rosaline or Berenilde was there to comment. He even answered her own questions with only somewhat hesitations. She still didn't feel it right to approach the subject of his family, the book, or the wedding, which left little to ask. 

The conversation had reached a lull, and Ophelia thought best to admit something that she neglected. Swallowing a bubble in her throat.   
"While we're here, I need to say it. I read your dice accidentally." Unsurprisingly, Thorn watched her with an eagle eye, but he still said nothing.   
"I have tried to not let it affect anything, but I just wanted to let you know that I think you're very brave." Thorn looked at her with absolute sincerity, as if those were the last thing he expected to hear. Ophelia was suddenly overcome with the feeling of wanting to be closer to him. She had never felt such emotion and was shocked to be feeling it now; maybe the marriage wouldn't be that bad in the end, maybe she could be happy.

I thought crossed her mind that she absolutely had not considered before. What if Thorn were to kiss here, right now. Would she mind? Would she know what to do? Is this what you were supposed to feel. She shook it out of her mind. It clearly hadn't crossed him. She reasoned that it would be indecent; what would her mother say?

To spoil the moment Ophelia thought of what really annoyed her. He hadn't made the slightest effort to forge an alliance with her family, and yet she was expected to respect everyone in The Pole, but now wasn't the time to bring that up.

* * *

I still couldn't work out what she was thinking. I used to find it obvious, or I just didn't care, but now it pained me. I had told my Aunt that I would put the least amount of effort into the wedding, but that was before..before it was too late to change anything. For that, I would forever be sorry. It wasn't fair to her. I'm sure she never dreamt of anything like this or anyone like _me._ As much as things had advanced, my memory kept taking me back to the station. Even know while we were by the sea, I looked at Ophelia, and she was only ever standing by the fireplace, telling me she would never love me. That hurt.

But things had to go on. I just had to give her a chance, really get to know her, then maybe she wouldn't leave. But if she did, ridicule never killed me.

"I really should be heading back now."


	4. Inquiring Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ophelia visits Thorn in his office to ask more questions about his world.

Thanks to Ophelia's mirror traveling abilities she was able to frequently visit Thorn while she was at the Clairdelune. She took the time when he wasn't receiving visitors to ask her questions about the Dragons, being a member of the Court, and attitude around nobles. If Ophelia wasn't trying to convince everyone that she was mute she would have asked Fox instead, but while Thorn's welcome wasn't exactly warm, he took his time to answer everything she could possibly ask. Today was no different.

That morning she was tasked with setting up the tea trays to bring from the kitchen to each guest. In her usual clumsy manner, Ophelia managed to drop 2 cups, and spill a container of tea leaves before being asked to leave. To keep her busy she then had to polish all 42 trays designated to the more upper-class guests, and these trays did not shine easily; someone had left them from the day before so she was essentially scrubbing off 2 days worth of mess and discoloration. After straining her arm, Ophelia was allowed some free time since Berenilde had decided to attend a croquet match in the garden. 

After consideration, she decided to visit Thorn; before they had moved in with Archibald Ophelia was using her time between Berenildes teaching and being locked up in her room to learn more about the world she would now live in. 

Back in her room, she switched Mimes' Valet livery for the coat she borrowed, pinned her hair up using everything she remembered from her Aunt Rosaline to her advantage, tied her scarf around her neck, and pulled on her boots. Looking at her reflection Ophelia couldn't help but look tired, with dark circles under her eyes, washed-out skin, too big clothes; she really was a mess. Deciding that it was once again too ridiculous to be concerned with it, Thorn would have to get used to it if she was going to be hidden as a valet. She ensured that her door was locked by twisting the handle twice and making sure it wouldn't budge; not that anyone entering would have any idea what was happening, but she was so used to triple locking it back in Berenildes manor that anything other than that felt wrong.

Ophelia plunged her hand into the mirror and couldn't feel any coats, so she stepped through. The air inside the office was crisp, and, like it usually was, cold. Ophelia wondered if maybe just like Berenilde's manor, his room also reflected his mood. Thorn, although having no reason to anticipate her coming, was looking at her from his desk, files neatly stacked in front of him. When Ophelia acknowledged his presence he went back to his work. 

"I have an hour," he said as Ophelia was climbing up on a chair.  
"I'll make it quick," she replied, his eyes still focusing on his files, "I just have some questions regarding my family."  
This made him look up, staring her down with an inquiring tilt to his head.   
Ophelia continued, "did you send my telegram as I asked?"  
"Yes." he said sternly, diverting his focus, "although I might add that I would prefer to avoid communicating via telegram to the treasury."  
After much thought, Ophelia responded, "Likewise, but I still need to know who intercepted my correspondence."  
Thorn snorted, "Yes, because I clearly haven't been thinking about it," he sighed with no attempt to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

Ophelia looked down at her feet. She knew she had hit a nerve, but _he_ was the one who wasn't taking this as seriously as her, and he asked her to keep him updated on the situation with his Aunt, and yet he was annoyed when she attempted to do that. She had it in her right mind to let him know how she felt exactly about her mail being tampered with, and how important it was to her, but she decided the smart thing to do here was hold her tongue.

Thorn had now fully dived into his papers, checking each one in the stack methodologically. Ophelia spotted him occasional glancing at his fob watch, which was also laid out on the table next to an old cup and the telephone. Unusual, she thought, didn't take him to be the kind of person to just leave things; everything was neatly organized. Maybe she was rubbing off on him in the worst way possible.

"How is my Aunt anyway?" This time it was Thorn attempting to initiate conversation. Ophelia glanced up, he was now watching her expectingly, pen in hand.   
"Oh, uh, well. she updated, "She had decided to participate in the Opera, the hours have been incredibly long, and she's been more demanding than before."   
"Very well then."  
Ophelia wondered if she had said the wrong thing. Perhaps speaking of his Aunt like this would only add fuel to the fire that was her and Thorn not seeing eye to eye, and maybe he had taken offense. 

Without warning, Thorn had opened a draw and swept the remaining files into it, closing it indignantly and with a sudden bang which startled Ophelia.  
"Are you okay with that?".  
Ophelia didn't think she had a choice. Did she look that tired to warrant a question of concern? Afraid of escalating issues, Ophelia just nodded. If she spoke she worried she might keep talking, and mention how she was unhappy, or how bad the valet quarters were, or about Fox.   
"I obviously would have preferred to avoid this, but Archibald is quite intrusive, I never planned for you to be living as a valet."  
"Is this supposed to be encouraging?" Ophelia asked, maybe she had been wrong about him again. He wasn't getting any easier to read, and she had just misinterpreted him again. Thorn stared at her, lost for words.  
"I do appreciate everything," she added hoping to remedy the situation.  
"Anyway," he resigned tiredly, "there's not much we can do now, we still don't know what happened to your letters, and we still don't know a motive. Even if anything did come from this, I don't have a better idea."  
Ophelia considered bringing up her thoughts again but stopped herself. 

Thorn now had his back to her, looking out the bullseye window. Didn't he have work to do? He always seemed busy, but here he was quite literally dropping everything for her. She concluded that he didn't do that for anyone and that maybe he cared a little more about her and the wedding than he initially led on.

"Before we left," Ophelia picked up, blowing her nose, "you were telling me how your world works, can you tell me more about the disgraced?" Thorn sat back down in his large chair, relaxing now and leaning on his hands. "Many people believe that they have done irredeemable actions, but I don't. A lot of it was really the issue of more people wanting a slice than there were slices to give out. Survival of the fittest if you like. There are currently laws around the issue that allow them to enter the city more frequently than what is permitted, but it's obviously not a regulated thing and it is hardly granted."   
Thorn had stopped and was now looking at her, seemingly surprised that she was actually listening. Ophelia gave him a little nod to encourage him.   
"Anyhow these laws make it a lot easier to introduce amendments, rather than start fresh."

Ophelia leaned back, fully considering his words. Things weren't like this on Anima. The only real-time she had heard about banishment was when the Doyennes wished her goodbye, and even then it wasn't as serious as it was on The Pole.

"Wow," was all she could manage, astonished.  
"I'm assuming things are a little different back home?" he questioned. So Thorn really was trying. She had judged him too harshly when really he probably never knew what to say.  
"You say that, but I don't think you would last long."  
"And why do you think that?"  
"You couldn't even last with my family. Your attitude is a reflection of this world, but in Anima we really are one big family."  
"I'm hated here too; nothing new."   
Ophelia didn't know what to say to this. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn.

"You've done well for yourself here." Thorn filled in the gaps in the air, "much more than I would have expected from anyone else."  
Ophelia blushed, she was tired and hadn't heard any kind words in a while, even if it was coming from Thorn. He tilted his head as he picked up on this, and the next thing he said he seemed to struggle with, pushing each word out reluctantly. "If you need to rest you can stay for a bit. I doubt the servants aren't dealt the same standard as the rest of us."

In any other world, time, or place, Ophelia would have hesitated, and raced out of there, but she _was_ tired, and he was true, the bed was hardly that, her room was cold, messy, and damp.  
"All I ask is that you try and not disturb me, I have a phone conference and some papers to prepare for it."   
Ophelia nodded, getting comfortable, he took his work seriously, as he should, but she really doubted if he would get upset if she was to bother him.

She had no intention of staying long, just long enough to catch up with herself, but it had been so long, and she had worked so hard, so she ended up drifting off into a nap.


	5. What Makes You Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day before Agatha's wedding, and the two take the time to reminisce together.

It was a warm, summer day, and Ophelia lay in the grass face up to the sun in the field behind their house. Agatha was there too, sitting crossed leg reading from a book about a princess and a dragon. The pair had just gone swimming and were now soaking up the sun to dry themselves. It was days like these that everything was perfect; the sun wasn't blaring, and the wind had picked up into a steady breeze that is to be expected after 5 pm. Ophelia spent her whole summer waiting for these days, but there were starting to be less and less of them. Agatha, at the age of 17, was off to be married. Ophelia had met him briefly during their first week of engagement, but as she was only young, their mother didn't think it was needed to bring the whole family to every event, so she was often left behind with her other siblings. Apart from that week, any time he was around Agatha went to him instead, with their Great Aunt as a chaperone.

"She thanked the young prince with a kiss, and they lived Happily Ever After. The End," Agatha concluded with a sigh.  
"Gross," Ophelia rolled over onto her stomach. The sun was getting to her skin, and she wanted to look at her sister now. "Does anyone actually enjoy this?"  
"Isn't it romantic? He saved her from a dragon. A dragon!" she squealed.  
"Couldn't she have saved herself?" Ophelia questioned.  
"Oh heavens no sis, that is very improper, plus it wouldn't make a good story."  
Ophelia sat up, legs outstretched, and leaning back on her hands, "I guess not."   
Agatha noticed her tone and tried to reassure her, "Don't worry, you'll get older, and then you'll understand, then mummy will find someone for you too."

But it wasn't reassuring. Ophelia wasn't that much younger than her sister, and their mother was even younger than that when she got married, and she had feelings for him. Other than indifference, the only feeling she had for men was confused, a little bit of sadness, and a whole lot of disdain. She wasn't stupid either. She had gone to plays with Agatha where characters fall in love and she had read many romance novels, and it was still the same scenario. When her sister was reaching into her bag for a tissue to dab her eyes, Ophelia was often rolling them.

That was another thing that separated the two; Agatha cared greatly of her looks and spent many minutes touching her makeup up. Ophelia was often a mess. Her hair was very rarely pinned and curled in every direction, she didn't see the point of makeup, and she was definitely too clumsy for pretty dresses and shoes. Their mother thought that she was doing it to prove a point, or that she'd grow out of it, but up to now she had not, and she maintained that she never would.

Ophelia lay down again, and this time Agatha followed. They both remained silent as if lost in thought. From tomorrow onwards everything would be different, but for now, they were contempt. Ophelia tried to hang on to this moment for as long as possible and willed as much as she could to pick it up and put it in a jar on her shelf for many years to come. That way she could reminisce whenever there was a gloomy day, she could always be in this field. Unfortunately, her memory was never that great.

"Do you think he's going to be a good husband?" Ophelia queried.  
"Don't say things like that, mummy hand-picked him.

That's what worried Ophelia. If she had thought that this man Charles was the best pick for Agatha, what would her eventual husband be like? Agatha secretly thought this too.

"He is simple," Agatha added, shielding her eyes from the sun, "but that's easy enough to fix."

Agatha was great at fixing people. She had an eye for improvement, and the will to stay dedicated; she could tell anyone what was wrong with how they looked in a way that wasn't offensive and was actually quite constructive. Ophelia didn't care for this at all, but if anyone was going to change an unfortunate fiance, it was going to be Agatha.

"He's also really nice, which is super important. You can't fix personality" she blushed.  
"Is he your dream guy?" Ophelia was looking at Agatha now, fiddling with her curls.  
"I think so, I really do think our mother did a good job."  
Ophelia said nothing.  
"Sis?"  
"Yes, Agatha?"  
"What's your dream guy?"  
"I don't know, I haven't thought about it,"

The first part was true, Ophelia didn't know who she'd like to marry, but she had thought if it. So far no guy, fictional or real, had made her heart skip a beat.  
Maybe someone like Harold," she added. Harold worked at the Jewellers, he was a reader too, who often held appraisals in his free time. He wasn't too tall, or too short, and he talked a lot, which was perfect to cover up Ophelia's silence.

"Ooh, good choice, Harold would make mummy soo happy," Agatha laughed, sighing sleepily at the end. And there she said it. It was never really about their happiness, but their parents. What mattered most was their conjugal duty, and that they carry a good image of their family. In that sense, Harold _was_ perfect.

Agatha had rolled over again, making sure not to spoil her skin too much from the sun.

"I love this weather," she commented, "it's just the right mix of everything."  
"It's the only weather we really get," Ophelia retorted.  
"Well yeah, but can you imagine living where it's always snowing? The horror"  
"You mean like The Pole?"  
"Yes, where people hunt and wear fur, so uncivilized."  
Ophelia thought for a second, "I think I wouldn't like to comment on that until I actually experience it for myself."  
"Then consider yourself lucky we don't have to go over there. Trust me, you wouldn't last winter there." Agatha scoffed.  
Maybe she was right, but Ophelia liked to witness things first hand and form her own opinion.

The sun was setting now, and with it went the beautiful day.

"I think making snowmen would be fun though," Ophelia chirped.  
"Oh sis, you're almost an adult, which means you need to grow up, like me. I'm getting married tomorrow, remember."

Ophelia didn't need reminding. She had constant sharp pain in her side, and a creeping headache just from thinking about it.

"Speaking of that, we really should be heading back now, I'm sure dinner is almost ready." So the two got up, collected their things, and began the walk back. With their damp hair, soaked clothes, and bare feet, it was almost like they were kids again.

That night Ophelia should have been excited about the wedding, but she couldn't shake the thought of the snow, Harold, her sister leaving, and everything that made someone special. She decided then that she wouldn't wait for anyone, and would save herself from any dragon.


End file.
